Grey hairs.
It's funny, isn't it? I remember the jokes we used to have, and how much you used to freak when I said it. You used to shake your head and say that you'd never go grey. You'd dye it and dye it forever. You'd always stay that rich, luscious crimson I loved. Redheads burned with passion, you'd use to say. And I believed you. Even now, I still believe you.
Remember when you really did start going grey? I used to watch you with that dye, attempting to hide them back into oblivion. No place for greys on me, you'd chuckle. And I'd chuckle with you. No greys. You. You lived in a spectrum-filled world, while I lived in black and white. Greys were my scene, not yours. Isn't that funny? Me? The purple and magenta man himself? In a grey, grey world? Who'd have thought!
You were there. You were there when black and white condensed into a migraine-inducing whirl. You were there to sieve through it all. You were there, my cloud, when life had no form. My cloud, my rainy, sunny, fluffy cloud. Even though you rained on my parade, you were always there to mop it up after.
Grey.
That's how we knew you weren't getting better. What happened to you? Your world lost all hues, and you dropped into mine. The greys. They just kept coming, and you no longer cared. Why should I care when grey is all I see? That's what you'd say. That's what you'd cry. Every cloud needs a silver lining. I'm just sorry I was tarnished.
But that's ok.
I lost you, but you never lost me. My cloud... My red, vibrant cloud. I'm sorry you dispersed from my life. I'm sorry I wasn't there to line your sorrow.
My life is filled with grey. A grey from which I cannot escape. The mirror shows me that.
That, and my grey hairs.